That Wonderful Madman and his Fantastic Blue Box
by TeEpicKiteh
Summary: A strange Englishman appears in a highschool and begins teaching. A poor decription of this story. -Incomplete-
1. First Impressions

_**THAT WONDERFUL MADMAN AND HIS FANTASTIC BLUE BOX**_

**Yes, this is my second Doctor Who fanfic. Yes, I think this one'll be much better. No, the other one is not on here. No, it will not be perfect. At all. All I'm going to say is, please read and reply. Every bit of constructive criticism makes me a better writer. Try and enjoy yourselves, and ignore my occasional ramblings. Oh! Yeah! Also: If I owned Doctor Who, would I really spend my time writing this? No, I'd be ****watching**** err,**** staring at, err,**** drooling over Matt Smith. **

_(This takes place in an existence where *gasp* there is no BBC show Doctor Who, and The Doctor is in his eleventh regeneration. Rory and Amy are not around and I'll get to that later on.)_

**Well, then on to the story. Allons-y!**

Well, this is my life. Exiting isn't it? I go to a fairly strict private school, I have my own group of close friends and my grades are at best, average. My typical day involves going to school, not talking much, and playing video games. Okay, I don't exactly have the most exciting existence, but it's something right? Wait, let me rephrase that slightly. I _didn't _have the most exciting life, but that was before my second semester of my freshman year came around. That was before I met _him._ I'm not taking about some poorly written romance story right now, I'm talking about my real-world experiences, I'm not talking about love, or lust (Okay, maybe lust) or infatuation. (Once again, maybe infatuations, but certainly not love, at least like that) This is my story about how I met that wonderful mad man and his fantastic box.

Everything that day was going well, at least as well as it could, being a high school girl. I entered and exited my classes wordlessly and kept my head down. I'm not the type to cause unnecessary trouble, or speak. Words aren't my strong-suit. Anyways, back to January 4, 2015. Like I said, the day was fairly uneventful, just an average day. Until history, that is. Yes, history class, the one class I actual that is. Yes, history class, the one class I actually excel in. I sat down in the front of the class, and looked around the classroom for our old ex-marine teacher, Mr. Martynski. He was brilliant, and I don't use that term loosely. He was great, okay maybe not perfect, but he and I were close, as close as a brilliant teacher and brilliant student could be. Once again, back to the story. I looked around for our grey-haired teacher, but there was no sign of him. A horrible thought passed my brain; I certainly didn't want to start off the new year with a substitute teacher, they were always so... I could never find the right words for them, so for lack of a better one, annoying.

My head, along with the rest of my classmates', turned when a man, maybe in his mid-twenties came bounding in with a seemingly endless supply of energy. His apparel was what intrigued me. He wore a red bowtie, black pants, and a tweed jacket he had a white dress shirt, and his hair was done up very interestingly above his eyes, similar to that of a teenage rebel. Yeah, I'm a girl, I know my stuff. "Good morning class!" He almost shouted at us. "I'm professor- oh wait right America." He stumbled on his words, as if this was his first day in the states. "I'm Doctor John Smith! Your new history teacher!" I let out a very slight choking noise, and looked up at 'John Smith'.

"Wait, what? No, no, no. I _liked_ Mr. Martynski. He was a good teacher." I complained loudly, my peers sniggered, but I ignored them. "Seriously, he was bloody brilliant. Always knew the right answer to everything." I didn't realise that I had slipped into my phony British accent until it was too late. _Great._ I thought bitterly to myself. _Make a fool of myself even more in front of the class why don't I? _I figured that I'd probably insulted the man, seeing as he had a distinctive British accent himself, but I couldn't have been more wrong. Instead of frowning at me like I had said something wrong, Mr. Smith was smiling.

"You aren't from London, are you?" He asked curiously. Did I actually sound like I was from London, or was he just humouring me?I wondered, but before I could wonder long, he began speaking again, this time much faster, and less organized in his thoughts. "I had a friend once who was from Scotland, she was a lovely girl. Her name was Amy, she had a husband from London, or I think he was from London, now that I think I about it, I never really paid attention to where he was from. I also had a friend name Martha, oh she was lovely, and Jack. Great fellow Jack was, is, he's still alive. I should see if he could come in one of these days, he would make the perfect history teacher. Actually so would I, and I will, I promise you that. Now let's see, freshman history. Ah Romans! I love Romans. My friend I was telling you about earlier was a Roman. Is a Roman. As I used to say time is all wibbley-wobbly or something like that, completely unimportant right now. So what are we learning about? Oh, right Romans well..." He continued ranting about the roman's and their architecture and every little detail about them. It was almost as if teaching our class was him reliving some of his most fond memories. Of course, logic told me that that was impossible, or at least highly unlikely. As he was babbling endlessly about Mark Antony and Hannibal and various other people in Roman history I could help but think, no matter how much Mr. Martynski and I got along, this man. This John Smith. He was the most energetic and fascinating teacher and person I had ever met.

I watched, no stared at Mr. Smith in nothing less than complete awe. It seemed as if he could babble on and on about one subject forever, and yet every moment of it was fascinating. I resisted the urge to answer his question from the first few minutes of class, purely for the fact that I wanted to hear what this man had to say. Finally, or the better phrase to use would probably be unfortunately. Unfortunately, the bell to dismiss our class rang out through the school. "Mr. Smith?" I asked, trying to get his attention. He looked up, and I finally noticed his eyes. They lacked the boyish appearance that the rest of his body had; in fact they had the complete opposite of a boyish look. They looked ancient, with various degrees of pain, sorrow, and happiness. I pushed this thought from my mind, and smiled. "Love the bowtie, by the way."

He smiled and straightened it. He mumbled something like 'I told Amy.' Or something like that. "Bowties are cool." He said which caused me to laugh slightly. "I'll see you tomorrow then, miss- Sorry what was your name?"

"Catherine Hall." I said while leaving the classroom.

**Okay, I lied. Rule one: I lie. Instead of adding another chapter, I just added a bit that I wrote late last night. Read and reply, please. It encourages me to not abandon this little project. Also give me some ideas and such if you'd like. This isn't finished yet, so, yeah... Thanks for reading this first chapter and I'll try to post the next chapter tomorrow. **


	2. The Madman

**Okay! Chapter two! I'm kind of rushing this one a bit, but I did my best, alright? If I'm not exactly capturing The Doctor's 'essence', please comment to let me know. I've only recently begun watching the recent Doctor Who episodes (After watching the originals, which by the way are amazing) so he may not be his brilliant self. Basically, what I'm trying to say is that if eleven begins to sound like four, ten, or two, I'm sorry, and let me know in the comments. **

**Also: I wouldn't be fantasizing about the Doctor if I owned the show, it belongs to the BBC.**

**Well, then. Chapter Two! Geronimo!**

The next few days were... Interesting, to say the least. Mr. Smith decided to make all of his students refer to him as 'The Doctor'. That strange man never ceased to amaze me. His personality and eccentric clothing could make pretty much everyone smile. Except me, really. It's not that I didn't like him, I did, it was just that something about him made me curious. I was too busy trying to figure out who 'The Doctor' was, to laugh at his poorly constructed jokes, and his almost obnoxiously cheery mood. There was just something far too strange about him, but of course there would be no way for me to find out, even if my assumptions were true. Okay, I'm going to fast forward this little story just a bit.

About two months had passed at good old Lincoln High. Everything was going well, if a bit different. The Doctor was acting more and more strange. Stranger than usual, I mean. Most of his thoughts had become jumbled, and he seemed to have other things on his mind. He missed around seven or so days of classes, and when he came back, he seemed unable to think much, and he always seemed worn out. I sort of wished that I could help him, but then again what could a fifteen year old do? What if this man was dangerous? What if he was an undercover cop? I wouldn't mind if he was either of the two, as long as nothing happened to me during what he did. I know, it sounds shallow, but hey, I like being alive, it's just a pesky habit of mine.

During this time, or around this time, I became much less interested in just hanging in the background. I've never really liked being in the background, but like I said before, I just like staying alive and out of harm's way. Or, at least I did. One day, in the middle of March, March 18th to be exact, I became gutsy. Not life-threateningly gutsy, but gutsier than I had been previously. This is where my strange, wonderful, terrifying story truly begins.

"Doctor?" I knocked on his door after school had finally let out. His green-brown coloured eyes looked up at me in curiosity, but I didn't give him time to ask me what was up before I spoke again. "What is that?" I pointed to the metallic pen sized device that he was holding, possibly fixing. If you could fix a pen with a knife.

"Oh, that's my sonic. Not very important right now. What did you want miss Hall?" He asked me, looking back down at whatever it was that he was doing.

"Well, Doctor..." I took a few steps closer to him and looked over his shoulder at his 'sonic'. "I was wondering if you needed any help with anything. See, my parents are a bit busy and can't pick me up right now, and I don't like busses. And seeing as you're the only teacher that... Well, actually offers help after class and stuff..." In my head the words sounded quite good, but the instant I spoke them out loud, they didn't exactly work out. "Well, I was wondering if _I _could help _you._" I tried to say the last bit with a smile, but it just ended up looking as awkward as I felt. "So, what do you say, Doctor? Need any help?" I said, my confidence slowly rising, though admittedly not by much.

He smiled his childish smile and looked up at me. He put his 'sonic' down and began speaking, again, as per usual, very quickly. "Actually I could use some help. Well, sort of help. I could probably do it myself, but seeing as you're here offering to help, I need some things out of my err... Car. It's not really a car, in fact it's not a car at all. It's more of a police box, actually it _is _a police box. Well, not technically speaking it's not a police box, she's much more than that. On second thought, you'd better not get it, just stand there and don't touch anything." With that little discussion, or rambling nonsense, he left the room, running faster than any man, woman, or child I've seen in my life. I peeked out the door, and he was gone in a flash.

"Doctor, you left your- Sonic..." I said out the door, though nobody but myself could hear what I had just said. I gave him a few more seconds, then walked back to the desk where he had been working with his strange device. I picked it up, despite the Doctor's request, and turned it around in my hands to get a better look at it. "What are you?" I mumbled to the strange pen sized device. It had a retractable claw type shape and green coloured light on one end, and an odd black rubber on the other end. "Hmm..." I whispered, and looked behind my back to make sure my strange teacher hadn't returned. I took the knife, which turned out not to be a knife but a long screwdriver of sorts. I fiddled around, figuring that if it had been broken already, what harm could it do? After a good minute and a half or so of fiddling, I figured I must have fixed it, as the light began glowing green.

"What are you-?" The Doctor asked as he ran into the room carrying a large box of various metals and wires. "I told you not to touch anything!" He noticed that I was holding his sonic and dropped his box. He ran at me and snatched it out of my hand.

"You're welcome..." I mumbled sarcastically.

"Why did you touch my sonic? Something bad could have happened, okay not really. It's more of a tool than a weapon. In fact it's not a weapon at all, 100% safe, but still I told you not to touch. Why did you touch it?"

"It looked broken, so I decided to fix it. By the looks of it, I think I did a pretty good job." I paused. "What? No thank you?" I muttered to myself. Great, now I was probably going to be yelled at, right? Wrong. The Doctor wasn't yelling, or giving me a disappointed look. Instead he came closer, and he gave me a quick, friendly hug. "Doctor?" I asked, fearing for his sanity.

"You, Catherine Hall. Are a genius." He said to me, which caused me to take a step backwards a bit. My mouth hung open and I stood there, with a questioning glare, looking like a fish pulled out of the water.

"Thank, you?" My voice, unsure. Never had anyone called me a genius before, without joking around, and something about his tone told me he wasn't kidding. "But wait," I said. "How am I a genius? All I did was switch the xanthen wire and plain copper wire, and screwed in the bulb a bit. That's not exactly rocket science." I explained.

He smiled again, this time it wasn't a quick praising one, but a smile only a complete madman was capable of. Of course, this man was mad. And strange. And just a little bit amazing. "What you did doesn't make you a genius." He told me, keeping his mad smile on the whole while. "It's the fact that you did it."

**So what was that brilliance? It was that pesky little chapter two that I've been neglecting... Expect Chapter three ASAP, though I can't promise a specific date. As always, please comment, it gives me a reason to continue.**


	3. Of Screwdrivers and TARDISES

**Hey guys! I'm back with chapter three of That Wonderful Madman and his Fantastic Blue Box, and this is where all the action really kinda starts. If I get any information off or make eleven sound like an OC or one of the previous doctors, I'm really sorry and you should comment so I can edit it. Otherwise it'll continue to look like rubbish, and I'll look like a rubbish writer, and that's bad. As always, unfortunately I don't own Doctor Who. I do own ten's sonic screwdriver (a replica of it) and a wallet that has various Doctor Who pictures on it. The show itself though, is owned by the BBC. Also, I'm so sorry for neglecting this, but I've had awful writer's block and the Master kind of hypnotized me to write various fanfics in my notebook, but they were all crap, so only one or two of them are going to end up on here. **

As I've said many times before, the Doctor is completely and undoubtedly insane. I figured when I first met him that he was just a bit hyper from drinking too much caffeine in the mornings, but I was wrong. Completely wrong. He is insane because he has a reason. He has never told me his reason, and probably never will, but he definitely has a reason.

"I only have one question. Actually I have a lot of questions. A lot of questions, but only one for you Catherine Hall. How did you know how to fix my sonic?" The Doctor asked me. "Humans shouldn't have technology like that for another fifty years or so. So how is it that you knew how to fix my sonic?" I opened my mouth to answer his question, but before I was given the chance, he pointed his 'sonic' at me and a strange whirring sound emitted from it. I looked at him, puzzled. "Definitely human, 21st century." He muttered loudly enough for me to hear.

Before I allowed him to spew anymore complete nonsense, I stopped him. "Okay, okay, wait. Now hold on a second. Did you just scan me? With a pen? To make sure I was human?" Normally I wouldn't have minded his pure insanity, but I was already annoyed at him, and come on, who scans people to make sure that they're human? With a freakin' pen? "Why did you have to make sure I was human? I look human, and I sound human, so why the hell wouldn't I be?" I asked him, my tone calming down ever so slightly. I expected him to get angry at me for yelling at him, but once again, I was wrong. It was almost as if he was used to being verbally abused, or was deaf, or was just naturally a calm person. I decided to go with the latter.

"I'll answer your question after you answer mine." He said calmly. "How did you fix my sonic?"

"We've gone over this, already. I'm just very good at technology. Is it really that unusual?" I asked him, aggravated. When I told him I was good with technology, I really wasn't lying. If I wasn't, how else would I have been able to tell he was scanning me with his sonic, or whatever he calls that pen of his? "Now," I began. "Why did you just scan me to make sure I was human?" I asked the Doctor again.

"Well, you can never be too sure. I've run into plenty of aliens that look like humanity. Or rather humanity looks like a lot of different aliens. It really is a common shape. You'd be surprised." Once again, I was in awe at what this man had just told me.

"You've run into- oh come on really? You've run into aliens? You're kidding right? I mean aliens aren't really that big of a deal anymore, but nobody has had any contact. Well, there's the government, but not a history teacher. I'm sorry sir, but a teacher wouldn't get the chance to see them." I told him, smiling.

"You're right, a teacher wouldn't get to see aliens." He said cryptically, I was confused. "Well, speaking of aliens and humans, I'd better get going. Places to go, the Earth to save and all that jazz." I tilted my head and watched him bound out of the room excitedly. Despite all of my instincts to stay were I was, I decided to ignore them and follow the Doctor.

The brain is a strange thing. Sometimes when you listen to it you get screwed, and sometimes when you ignore it, good things happen. I'm not completely sure which one this would go under. I don't remember actually thinking about following the Doctor, I just remember doing it.

I followed the Doctor to the school's parking lot, expecting him to go to his car and drive home. Instead, I watched him walk towards some point in the lot that didn't seem to have anything in that direction until he put a key in a blue box. According to the sign it was a police public call box. There were three very strange things about the box. One, it didn't seem to be there before he put the key in it's lock. Thinking back, I probably just wasn't paying attention to it, I tend to do that occasionally. Two, the Doctor may not be very big, but it still didn't look very comfortable to be standing in for the amount of time he was. (Which so far it was about ten minutes) Three, what was a police box and what was it doing in central Wisconsin? I stood and waited for him to come out of the strange box for another few minutes, and decided to maybe knock on the door or something to make sure he was okay. I took enough steps towards it to be about halfway there, before debating whether or not it would be a good idea. You never know what people are doing in confined spaces, if you know what I mean. I sighed and decided that I didn't care; my curiosity got the better of me as always. I pushed the police box's door open and gasped at the sight that greeted me.

"It- it's bigger on the inside?" I asked, my voice shaky and unsure at what my eyes were witnessing. "But that's impossible! Doctor? Are you here?" I shouted, not noticing the fact that he was standing right in front of me. Everybody always has some idea of what they would do if they ever saw something impossible like this, but when actually confronted with a situation such as this, reactions are always different.

The Doctor waved his hand a few times in front of me to make sure I was okay. "Catherine. I'm right here." He said, worried, yet at the same time grinning like a small boy, as always. "Oh, yeah my TARDIS. She's great isn't she?"

I scratched my head and smiled. "This is an illusion, right? You're some kind of magician. I knew there was something strange about you…" I told him, still not believing this. "How'd you make it look that small? Mirrors? Something else? Oh c'mon you know you can tell me. I'll keep your secret."

The Doctor laughed a bit. "No, I'm not a magician, well actually I am, maybe one time I could show you a card trick. I'm great at card trips- Right, but no, my TARDIS isn't a trick, or an illusion, she's just a ship. Nothing- well, everything about her is special. But, still she's a ship not an illusion." Normally I would've started ignoring him after the first time he said anything, now knowing his tendency to repeat, and ramble, but this time I paid attention to his words. In fact I probably wouldn't have believed him if he didn't say it so many times.

"What's a TARDIS?" I asked, still skeptical.

"My TARDIS is my ship." He said, one last time. "My time machine, she also travels through space, she's like a space-and-time-machine, but it's easier to call her a TARDIS." He explained to me, as simply as he could.

At last I think I was beginning to get it, but it was still mind blowing. "So, is TARDIS a name, or an acronym, or what?" I asked him, still trying to understand the mechanics of something that was far beyond a freshman's understanding.

"Her name's Sexy, and yes. TARDIS is an acronym for Time And Relative Dimension In Space. Now, please can you stop asking so many questions? Not that I have a problem with questions, it's just that I was a bit busy trying to fix her when you came in. I think I've got it, but I still should do a bit of tweaking. Or not, she's always been a bit broken so having her like brand new would probably be a bit of a waste…" He shrugged. "Besides, with all the fixing I've been doing, I might accidentally end up fixing the Chameleon Circuit and I do really like it as a Police Box."

"Okay, so you're a madman with a fantastic box that's bigger on the inside and travels through time and space. Sounds… Perfectly normal, I guess…" What else was there really to say?

**Loved this chapter? Hated it? Thought it was too short? Have any ideas? Think I'm asking too many questions? Leave me a comment to let me know. It inspires me to keep on writing. Once again, sorry for neglecting this but a lot's been going on… I'll try to keep the updates on some form of schedule of sorts because I now have a desk instead of a TV tray, and a chair to sit on instead of just lying on my bed… Maybe I'll do every Monday and Friday or something like that? Or whenever I have an idea? Whatever, I'll just try to keep writing this. :D **


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